Page 2 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

The resort lobby unfolds before me, a soaring space of exposed beams and stone. A massive fireplace dominates one wall, flames leaping behind an ornate iron screen. The scent of pine and woodsmoke wraps around me, momentarily soothing my jangled nerves.

But only momentarily.

The lobby should be bustling with staff preparing for the wedding. Instead, it stands eerily quiet. No reception staff. No event team. Just vast, empty luxury.

"Where is everyone?" I turn to Lucas, dread building in my stomach.

"It's just me tonight." He shrugs, setting my partially rescued papers on a solid wooden console table. "The staff will be here first thing tomorrow."

"Just you?" My voice rises despite my efforts to maintain professionalism. "I mean your staff. The event team that should be transforming the reception hall according to the schedule I sent three weeks ago. The florists who should be preparing arrangements for the rehearsal dinner. The?—"

"They'll be here first thing tomorrow." He moves toward the fireplace, seemingly unconcerned by my rising panic. "Most of them live in town, and there's no need for them to stay overnight when we don't have guests yet."

"No need?" My voice cracks with strain. "Mr. Reid, I specifically outlined in my communications that preparations needed to begin today. The Mortons are arriving in four days, and everything must be perfect when they walk through that door."

He turns, the firelight casting shadows across his face. "And it will be. My team knows what they're doing."

"Your team isn't here." I gesture to the empty lobby, my carefully constructed schedule crumbling before my eyes. "I need to inspect the reception hall, finalize the table arrangements, check the lighting and sound systems?—"

"All of which can be done tomorrow morning." His calm only fuels my anxiety. "We've hosted hundreds of events, Ms. Hayes. Trust me, everything will be ready."

Trust. Such a simple word, yet impossible to extend to this man with his relaxed posture and casual dismissal of my concerns. I've built my career on meticulous planning and personal oversight, not blind faith in strangers.

"I need to see the reception hall." I move toward the corridor that should lead to the main event space, according to the floor plans I've memorized.

Lucas sighs but follows. "Fine. But I promise, you'll find it exactly as we discussed."

The grand ballroom doors swing open to reveal a cavernous space with floor-to-ceiling windows that would showcase mountain views if not for the snow now pelting against the glass. The room stands empty save for stacked chairs and folded tables along one wall.

My heart sinks. "This doesn't look 'exactly as we discussed' to me, Mr. Reid."

"Lucas." He corrects automatically. "And yes, it needs to be set up. Which will happen tomorrow morning when my team arrives."

I open my binder, flipping through the scattered remains of my detailed timeline. "According to this schedule, which you approved, we should be starting setup today, with gradual progress over the next three days before the guests arrive."

"Plans change." He shrugs, seemingly impervious to my distress. "The weather forecast shifted. I told the staff to come in early tomorrow instead of staying late tonight."

As if summoned by his words, the lights flicker once, twice, then stabilize. Lucas frowns, glancing toward the ceiling.

"Let's head back to the lobby." He gestures toward the door. "I want to check something."

We return to the grand entrance, where Lucas walks to a large television mounted above the fireplace. It displays a weather map covered in swirling white and blue. A meteorologist gestures emphatically at the storm system engulfing the entire mountain range.

"—unexpected intensity has prompted officials to close Highway 14, the only access road to Angel's Peak and surrounding areas. Residents and visitors are advised to shelter in place until further notice. We're looking at accumulations of up to three feet in the next twenty-four hours, with high winds creating whiteout conditions?—"

The room tilts beneath my feet. "The road is closed? But I need your staff here to begin preparations. We have a strict schedule to keep if we're going to be ready for the wedding."

"The snow didn't get that memo." Lucas's expression has finally lost its casual confidence.

I gesture toward the windows, where flakes now drive horizontally against the glass. "What are we going to do?"

He runs a hand through his hair, disheveling the dark strands. "First, we stay calm. Weather in the mountains is unpredictable. The road will likely reopen tomorrow once the plows get through."

The lights flicker again, longer this time, before plunging us into complete darkness. The only illumination comes from the crackling fire and the ghostly reflection of snow against the windows.

"Perfect. Just perfect." My voice sounds distant to my own ears, shock numbing my usual problem-solving abilities.

"Don't worry." Lucas's silhouette moves toward a control panel near the wall. "The generator will kick in any second."

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